Yet when the houre of thy designe To answer these fine things shall come Speak not at large say I am thine And then they have their answer home ¶ Vanitie POore silly soul whose hope and head lies low Whose flat delights on earth do creep and grow To whom the starres shine not so fair as eyes Nor solid work as false embroyderies Heark and beware lest what you now do measure And write for sweet prove a most sowre displeasure O heare betimes lest thy relenting May come too late To purchase heaven for repenting Is no hard rate If souls be made of earthly mold Let them love gold If born on high Let them unto their kindred flie For they can never be at rest Till they regain their ancient nest Then silly soul take heed for earthly joy Is but a bubble and makes thee a boy ¶ The Dawning AWake sad heart whom sorrow ever drowns Take up thine eyes which feed on earth Unfold thy forehead gather'd into frowns Thy Saviour comes and with him mirth Awake awake And with a thankfull heart his comforts take But thou dost still lament and pine and crie And feel his death but not his victorie Arise sad heart if thou dost not withstand Christs resurrection thine may be Do not by hanging down break from the hand Which as it riseth raiseth thee Arise arise And with his buriall-linen drie thine eyes Christ left his grave-clothes that we might when grief Draws tears or bloud not want an handkerchief ¶ JESU JESU is in my heart his sacred name Is deeply carved there but th' other week A great affliction broke the little frame Ev'n all to pieces which I went to seek And first I found the corner where was I After where ES and next where V was graved When I had got these parcels instantly I sat me down to spell them and perceived That to my broken heart he was I ease you And to my whole is IESV ¶ Businesse CAnst be idle canst thou play Foolish soul who sinn'd to day Rivers run and springs each one Know their home and get them gone Hast thou tears or hast thou none If poore soul thou hast no tears Would thou hadst no faults or fears Who hath these those ill forbears Windes still work it is their plot Be the season cold or hot Hast thou sighs or hast thou not If thou hast no sighs or grones Would thou hadst no flesh and bones Lesser pains scape greater ones But if yet thou idle be Foolish soul Who di'd for thee Who did leave his Fathers throne To assume thy flesh and bone Had he life or had he none If he had not liv'd for thee Thou hadst di'd most wretchedly And two deaths had been thy fee. He so farre thy good did plot That his own self he forgot Did he die or did he not If he had not di'd for thee Thou hadst liv'd in miserie Two lives worse then ten deaths be And hath any space of breath 'Twixt his sinnes and Saviours death He that loseth gold though drosse Tells to all he meets his crosse He that sinnes hath he no losse He that findes a silver vein Thinks on it and thinks again Brings thy Saviours death no gain Who in heart not ever kneels Neither sinne nor Saviour feels ¶ Dialogue SWeetest Saviour if my soul Were but worth the having Quickly should I then controll Any thought of waving But when all my care and pains Cannot give the name of gains To thy wretch so full of stains What delight or hope remains What childe is the ballance thine Thine the poise and measure If I say Thou shalt be mine Finger not my treasure What the gains in having thee Do amount to onely he Who for man was sold can see That transferr'd th' accounts to me But as I can see no merit Leading to this favour So the way to fit me for it Is beyond my savour As the reason then is thine So the way is none of mine I disclaim the whole designe Sinne disclaims and I resigne That is all if that I could Get without repining And my clay my creature would Follow my resigning That as I did freely part With my glorie and desert Left all joyes to feel all smart Ah! no more thou break'st my heart ¶ Dulnesse WHy do I languish thus drooping and dull As if I were all earth O give me quicknesse that I may with mirth Praise thee brim-full The wanton lover in a curious strain Can praise his fairest fair And with quaint metaphors her curled hair Curl o're again Thou art my lovelinesse my life my light Beautie alone to me Thy bloudy death and undeserv'd makes thee Pure red and white When all perfections as but one appeare That those thy form doth show The very dust where thou dost tread and go Makes beauties here Where are my lines then my approaches views Where are my window-songs Lovers are still pretending ev'n wrongs Sharpen their Muse But I am lost in flesh whose sugred lyes Still mock me and grow bold Sure thou didst put a minde there if I could Finde where it lies Lord cleare thy gift that with a constant wit I may but look towards thee Look onely for to love thee who can be What angel fit ¶ Love-joy AS on a window late I cast mine eye I saw a vine drop grapes with I and C Anneal'd on every bunch One standing by Ask'd what it meant I who am never loth To spend my iudgement said It seem'd to me To be the bodie and the letters both Of Ioy and Charitie Sir you have not miss'd The man reply'd It figures IESVS CHRIST ¶ Providence O Sacred Providence who from end to end Strongly and sweetly movest shall I write And not of thee through whom my fingers bend To hold my quill shall they not do thee right Of all the creatures both in sea and land Onely to Man thou hast made known thy wayes And put the penne alone into his hand And made him Secretarie of thy praise Beasts fain would sing birds dittie to their notes Trees would be tuning on their native lute To thy renown but all their hands and throats Are brought to Man while they are lame and mute Man is the worlds high Priest he doth present The sacrifice for all while they below Unto the service mutter an assent Such as springs use that fall and windes that blow He that to praise and laud thee doth refrain Doth not refrain unto himself alone But robs a thousand who would praise thee fain And doth commit a world of sinne in one The beasts say Eat me but if beasts must teach The tongue is yours to eat but mine to praise The trees say Pull me but the hand you stretch Is mine to write as it is yours to raise Wherefore most sacred Spirit I here present For me and all my fellows praise to thee And just it is that I should pay the rent Because the benefit accrues to me We all
meat Who makes a root his god how low is he If God and man be sever'd infinitely What wretchednesse can give him any room Whose house is foul while he adores his broom None will beleeve this now though money be In us the same transplanted foolerie Thus Sinne in Egypt sneaked for a while His highest was an ox or crocodile And such poore game Thence he to Greece doth passe And being craftier much then Goodnesse was He left behinde him garrisons of sinnes To make good that which ev'ry day he winnes Here Sinne took heart and for a garden-bed Rich shrines and oracles he purchased He grew a gallant and would needs foretell As well what should befall as what befell Nay he became a poet and would serve His pills of sublimate in that conserve The world came both with hands and purses full To this great lotterie and all would pull But all was glorious cheating brave deceit Where some poore truths were shuffled for a bait To credit him and to discredit those Who after him should braver truths disclose From Greece he went to Rome and as before He was a God now he 's an Emperour Nero and others lodg'd him bravely there Put him in trust to rule the Romane sphere Glorie was his chief instrument of old Pleasure succeeded straight when that grew cold Which soon was blown to such a mightie flame That though our Saviour did destroy the game Disparking oracles and all their treasure Setting affliction to encounter pleasure Yet did a rogue with hope of carnall joy Cheat the most subtill nations Who so coy So trimme as Greece and Egypt yet their hearte Are given over for their curious arts To such Mahometan stupidities As the old heathen would deem prodigies How deare to me O God thy counsels are Who may with thee compare Onely the West and Rome do keep them free From this contagious infidelitie And this is all the Rock whereof they boast As Rome will one day finde unto her cost Sinne being not able to extirpate quite The Churches here bravely resolv'd one night To be a Church-man too and wear a Mitre The old debauched ruffian would turn writer I saw him in his studie where he sate Busie in controversies sprung of late A gown and pen became him wondrous well His grave aspect had more of heav'n then hell Onely there was a handsome picture by To which he lent a corner of his eye As Sinne in Greece a Prophet was before And in old Rome a mightie Emperour So now being Priest he plainly did professe To make a jest of Christs three offices The rather since his scatter'd jugglings were United now in one both time and sphere From Egypt he took pettie deities From Greece oracular infallibities And from old Rome the libertie of pleasure By free dispensings of the Churches treasure Then in memoriall of his ancient throne He did surname his palace Babylon Yet that he might the better gain all nations And make that name good by their transmigrations From all these places but at divers times He took fine vizards to conceal his crimes From Egypt Anchorisme and retirednesse Learning from Greece from old Rome statelinesse And blending these he carri'd all mens eyes While Truth sat by counting his victories Whereby he grew apace and scorn'd to use Such force as once did captivate the Jews But did bewitch and finely work each nation Into a voluntarie transmigration All poste to Rome Princes submit their necks Either t' his publick foot or private tricks It did not fit his gravitie to stirre Nor his long journey nor his gout and furre Therefore he sent out able ministers Statesmen within without doores cloisterers Who without spear or sword or other drumme Then what was in their tongue did overcome And having conquer'd did so strangely rule That the whole world did seem but the Popes mule As new and old Rome did one Empire twist So both together are one Antichrist Yet with two faces as their Ianus was Being in this their old crackt looking-grasse How deare to me O God thy counsels are Who may with thee compare Thus Sinne triumphs in Western Babylon Yet not as Sinne but as Religion Of his two thrones he made the latter best And to defray his journey from the east Old and new Babylon are to hell and night As is the moon and sunne to heav'n and light When th' one did set the other did take place Confronting equally the law and grace They are hells land-marks Satans double crest They are Sinnes nipples feeding th' east and west But as in vice the copie still exceeds The pattern but not so in vertuous deeds So though Sinne made his latter seat the better The latter Church is to the first a debter The second Temple could not reach the first And the late reformation never durst Compare with ancient times and purer yeares But in the Jews and us deserveth tears Nay it shall ev'ry yeare decrease and fade Till such a darknesse do the world invade At Christs last coming as his first did finde Yet must there such proportions be assign'd To these diminishings as is between The spacious world and Jurie to be seen Religion stands on tip-toe in our land Readie to passe to the American strand When height of malice and prodigious lusts Impudent â—inning witchcrafts and distrusts The marks of future bane shall fill our cup Unto the brimme and make our measure up When Sein shall swallow Tiber and the Thames By letting in them both pollutes her streams When Italie of us shall have her will And all her calender of sinnes fulfill Whereby one may fortell what sinnes next yeare Shall both in France and England domineer Then shall Religion to America flee They have their times of Gospel ev'n as we My God thou dost prepare for them a way By carrying first their gold from them away For gold and grace did never yet agree Religion alwaies sides with povertie We think we rob them but we think amisse We are more poore and they more rich by this Thou wilt revenge their quarrell making grace To pay our debts and leave our ancient place To go to them while that which now their nation But lends to us shall be our desolation Yet as the Church shall thither westward flie So Sinne shall trace and dog her instantly They have their period also and set times Both for their vertuous actions and their crimes And where of old the Empire and the Arts Usher'd the Gospel ever in mens hearts Spain hath done one when Arts perform the other The Church shall come Sinne the Church shall smother That when they haue accomplished the round And met in th' east their first and ancient sound Judgement may meet them both search them round Thus do both lights as well in Church as Sunne Light one another and together runne Thus also Sinne and Darknesse follow still The Church and Sunne with all their power and skill But as the Sunne still goes both west and east So also did the Church by going west Still eastward go because it drew more neare To time and place where judgement shall appeare How deare to me O God thy counsels are Who may with thee compare ¶ L' Envoy KIng of glorie King of Peace With the one make warre to cease With the other blesse thy sheep Thee to love in thee to sleep Let not Sinne devoure thy fold Bragging that thy bloud is cold That thy death is also dead While his conquests dayly spread That thy flesh hath lost his food And thy Crosse is common wood Choke him let him say no more But reserve his breath in store Till thy conquests and his fall Make his sighs to use it all And then bargain with the winde To discharge what is behinde Blessed be God alone Thrice blessed Three in One. FINIS The titles of the severall poems contained in this book A AAron 168 Affliction 38.53.64.82.89 Agonie 29 Altar 18 Anagram of the Virgin Marie 69 To all Angels and Saints ibid. The Answer 163 A Dialogue-Antheme 164 Antiphon 45.85 Artillerie 132 Assurance 149 Avarice 69 B THe Bag 145 The Banquet 175 H. Baptisme 36 Bitter-sweet 165 The British Church 102 The Bunch of Grapes 120 Businesse 105 C The Call 15â— Charms and knots 88 Christmas 72 Church-floore 58 Church-lock and key 57 Church Militant 184 Church-monuments 56 Church-musick 57 Church-porch 1 Church-rents schismes 134 Church-windows 59 Clasping of hands 151 The Collar 147 Coloss. 3.3 Our life c. 77 H. Communion 43 Complaining 137 Self-Condemnation 165 Confession 118 Conscience 98 Constancie 63 Content 6â— The Crosse 158 D THe Dawning 104 Death 180 Decay 91 Deniall 71 Dialogue 107 The Discharge 138 Discipline 173 Divinitie 127 Dooms-day 181 Dotage 161 Dulnesse 108 E EAster 33 Easter-wiâ—gs 34 35 The Elixer 178 Employment 49.70 L' Envoy 192 Ephes. 4.30 Grieve not c. 128 Evensong 55 F FAith 41 The Familie 130 The Flower 160 The Foil 170 The Forerunners ibid. Frailtie 62 G GIddinesse 119 The Glance 166 The Glimpse 148 Good-friday 30 Grace 52 Gratefulnesse 116 Grief 158 H HEaven 182 The Holdfast 137 Home 99 Hope 114 Humilitie 61 A true Hymne 162 I JEsu 105 The Jews 146 The Invitation 174 Jordan 48.95 Josephs coat 153 Judgement 182 Justice 88.135 L LEnt 78 Life 87 Longing 142 Love 45 46.183 Love-joy 109 Love unknown 121 M MAn 83 Mans medley 123 S. Marie Magdalene 168 Mattens 54 The Method 126 Miserie 92 Mortification 90 Nature 37 O OBedience 96 The Odour 169 An Offering 141 P PAradise 125 A Parodie 177 Peace 117 The Pearl Matt. 13. 81 Perirrhanterium 1 The Pilgrimage 135 The Posie 177 Praise 53.140.151 Prayer 43.95 The Priesthood 154 Providence 109 The 23 Psalme 167 The Pulley 153 Q THe Quidditie 61 The Quip 103 R REdemption 31 Repentance 40 The Reprisall 28 The Rose 172 S THe Sacrifice 19 Saints vide Angels Schismes vide Church-rents H. Scripture 50 The Search 156 Sepulchre 32 Sighs and grones 75 Sinne 37.55 Sinnes round 114 The Sinner 30 Sion 99 The Size 131 The Sonne 162 The Starre 65 The Storm 125 Submission 87 Sunday 66 Superliminare 17 T THe Temper 46 47 The Thanks-giving 27 Time 115 Trinitie-Sunday 59 V VAnitie 77.104 Vertue 18 Ungratefulnesse 74 Unkindnesse 86 W THe Water-course 164 Whitsunday 51 The World 76 A Wreath 179 FINIS
bitter crosse Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 crosse I bear my self untill I faint â—â—en Simon bears it for me by constraint â—â—e decreed burden of each mortall Saint Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 all ye who passe by behold and see â—â—n stole the fruiâ— but I must climbe the tree The tree of life to all but onely me Was ever grief c. 〈◊〉 here I hang charg'd with a world of sinne â—â—e greater world o' th' two for that came in 〈◊〉 words but this by sorrow I must win Was ever grief c. Such sorrow as if sinfull man could feel 〈◊〉 feel his part he would not cease to kneel â—â—ll all were melted though he were all steel Was ever grief c. â—â—â—t O my God my God! why leav'st thou me The sonne in whom thou dost delight to be â—â—y God my God Never was grief like mine â—â—â—me tears my soul my bodie many a wound â—â—arp nails pierce this but sharper that confound â—eproches which are free while I am bound Was ever grief c. Now heal thy self Physician now come down Alas I did so when I left my crown And fathers smile for you to feel his frown Was ever grief like mine In healing not my self there doth consist All that salvation which ye now resist Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist Was ever grief c. Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath As he that for some robberie suffereth Alas what have I stollen from you death Was ever grief c. A king my title is prefixt on high Yet by my subjects am condemn'd to die A servile death in servile companie Was ever grief c. They gave me vineger mingled with gall But more with malice yet when they did call With Manna Angels food I fed them all Was ever grief c. They part my garments and by lot dispose My coat the type of love which once cur'd those Who sought for help never malicious foes Was ever grief c. Nay after death their spite shall further go For they will pierce my side I full well know That as sinne came so Sacraments might flow Was ever grief c. But now I die now all is finished My wo mans weal and now I bow my head Onely let others say when I am dead Never was grief like mine ¶ The Thanksgiving OH King of grief a title strange yet true To thee of all kings onely due Oh King of wounds how shall I grieve for thee Who in all grief preventest me Shall I weep bloud why thou hast wept such store That all thy body was one doore Shall I be scourged flouted boxed sold 'T is but to tell the tale is told My God my God why dost thou part from me Was such a grief as cannot be Shall I then sing skipping thy dolefull storie And side with thy triumphant glorie Shall thy strokes be my stroking thorns my flowerâ— Thy rod my posie crosse my bower But how then shall I imitate thee and Copie thy fair though bloudie hand Stâ—â—dy I will reuenge me on thy love And trie who shall victorious prove If thou dost give me wealth I will restore All back unto thee by the poore If thou dost give me honour men shall see The honour doth belong to thee I will not marry or if she be mine She and her children shall be thine My bosome friend if he blaspheme thy name I will tear thence his love and fame One half of me being gone the rest I give Unto some Chappell die or live Aâ— for thy passion But of that anon When with the other I have done 〈◊〉 thy predestination I 'le contrive That three yeares hence if I survive I 'le build a spittle or mend common wayes But mend mine own without delayes Then I will use the works of thy creation As if I us'd them but for fashion The world and I will quarrell and the yeare Shall not perceive that I am here My musick shall finde thee and ev'ry string Shall have his attribute to sing That all together may accord in thee And prove one God one harmonie If thou shalt give me wit it shall appeare If thou hast giv'n it me 't is here Nay I will reade thy book and never move Till I have found therein thy love Thy art of love which I 'le turn back on thee O my deare Saviour Victorie Then for thy passion I will do for that Alas my God I know not what ¶ The Reprisall I Have consider'd it and finde There is no dealing with thy mighty passion For though I die for thee I am behinde My sinnes deserve the condemnation O make me innocent that I May give a disentangled state and free And yet thy wounds still my attempts defie For by thy death I die for thee Ah! was it not enough that thou By thy eternall glorie didst outgo me Couldst thou not griefs sad conquests me allow But in all vict'ries overthrow me Yet by confession will I come â—â—to the conquest Though I can do nought â—gainst thee in thee I will overcome The man who once against thee fought ¶ The Agonie PHilosophers have measur'd mountains â—â—thom'd the depths of seas of states and kings Walk'd with a staffe to heav'n and traced fountains But there are two vast spacious things The which to measure it doth more behove â—et few there are that sound them Sinne and Love Who would know Sinne let him repair â—nto mount Olivet there shall he see â— man so wrung with pains that all his hair His skinne his garments bloudie be â—nne is that presse and vice which forceth pain â—o hunt his cruell food through ev'ry vein Who knows not Love let him assay â—nd taste that juice which on the crosse a pike â—nd set again abroach then let him say If ever he did taste the like â—ove is that liquour sweet and most divine Which my God feels as bloud but I as wine ¶ The Sinner LOrd how I am all ague when I seek What I have treasur'd in my memorie Since if my soul make even with the week Each seventh note by right is due to thee I finde there quarries of pil'd vanities But shreds of holinesse that dare not venture To shew their face since crosse to thy decrees There the circumference earth is heav'n the centre In so much dregs the quintessence is small The spirit and good extract of my heart Comes to about the many hundredth part Yet Lord restore thine image heare my call And though my hard heart scarce to thee can grone Remember that thou once didst write in stone ¶ Good Friday O My chief good How shall I measure out thy bloud How shall I count what thee befell And each grief tell Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes Or since one starre show'd thy first breath Shall all thy death Or shall each leaf Which falls in Autumne score a grief Or cannot leaves but fruit be signe Of the true vine Then let each
houre Of my whole life one grief devoure That thy distresse through all may runne And be my sunne Or rather let My severall sinnes their sorrows get That as each beast his cure doth know Each sinne may so Since bloud is fittest Lord to write Thy sorrows in and bloudie sight My heart hath store write there where in One box doth lie both ink and sinne That when sinne spies so many foes Thy whips thy nails thy wounds thy woes All come to lodge there sinne may say No room for me and flie away Sinne being gone oh fill the place And keep possession with thy grace Lest sinne take courage and return And all the writings blot or burn ¶ Redemption HAving been tenant long to a rich Lord Not thriving I resolved to be bold And make a suit unto him to afford A new small-rented lease and cancell th' old In heaven at his manour I him sought They told me there that he was lately gone About some land which he had dearly bought Long since on earth to take possession I straight return'd and knowing his great birth Sought him accordingly in great resorts In cities theatres gardens parks and courts At length I heard a ragged noise and mirth Of theeves and murderers there I him espiedâ— Who straight Your suit is granted said die◠¶ Sepulchre O Blessed bodie Whither art thou thrown No lodging for thee but a cold hard stone So many hearts on earth and yet not one Receive thee Sure there is room within our hearts good store For they can lodge transgressions by the score Thousands of toyes dwell there yet out of doore They leave thee But that which shews them large shews them unfit What ever sinne did this pure rock commit Which holds thee now Who hath indited it Of murder Where our hard hearts have took up stones to brain thee And missing this most falsly did arraigne thee Onely these stones in quiet entertain thee And order And as of old the law by heav'nly art Was writ in stone so thou which also art The letter of the word find'st no fit heart To hold thee Yet do we still persist as we began And so should perish but that nothing can Though it be cold hard foul from loving man Withold thee ¶ Easter RIse heart thy Lord is risen Sing his praise Without delayes â—ho takes thee by the hand that thou likewise With him mayst rise â—hat as his death calcined thee to dust â—is life may make thee gold and much more just â—wake my lute and struggle for thy part With all thy art The crosse taught all wood to resound his name Who bore the same â—is streched sinews taught all strings what key 〈◊〉 best to celebrate this most high day Consort both heart and lute and twist a song Pleasant and long Or since all musick is but three parts vied And multiplied O let thy blessed Spirit bear a part And make up our defects with his sweet art 〈◊〉 got me flowers to straw thy way 〈◊〉 got me boughs off many a tree But thou wast up by break of day And brought'st thy sweets along with thee The Sunne arising in the East Though he give light th' East perfume If they should offer to contest With thy arising they presume Can there be any day but this Though many sunnes to shine endeavour We count three hundred but we misse There is but one and that one ever ¶ Easter wings Lord who createdst man in wealth and store Though foolishly he lost the same Decaying more and more Till he became Most poore With thee O let me rise As larks harmoniously And sing this day thy victories Then shall the fall further the flight in me ¶ Easter wings My tender age in sorrow did beginne And still with sicknesses and shame Thou didst so punish sinne That I became Most thinne With thee Let me combine And feel this day thy victorie For if I imp my wing on thine Affliction shall advance the flight in me ¶ H. Baptisme AS he that sees a dark and shadie grove Stayes not but looks beyond it on the skie So when I view my sinnes mine eyes remove More backward still and to that water flie Which is above the heav'ns whose spring and rent Is in my deare Redeemers pierced side O blessed streams either ye do prevent And stop our sinnes from growing thick and wide Or else give tears to drown them as they grow In you Redemption measures all my time And spreads the plaister equall to the crime You taught the book of life my name that so What ever future sinnes should me miscall Your first acquaintance might discredit all ¶ H. Baptisme SInce Lord to thee A narrow way and little gate Is all the passage on my infancie Thou didst lay hold and antedate My faith in me O let me still Write thee great God and me a childe Let me be soft and supple to thy will Small to my self to others milde Behither ill Although by stealth My flesh get on yet let her sister My soul bid nothing but preserve her wealth The growth of flesh is but a blister Childhood is health ¶ Nature FUll of rebellion I would die Or fight or travell or denie That thou hast ought to do with me O tame my heart It is thy highest art To captivate strong holds to thee â—f thou shalt let this venome lurk And in suggestions fume and work My soul will turn to bubbles straight And thence by kinde Vanish into a winde Making thy workmanship deceit O smooth my rugged heart and there Engrave thy rev'rend law and fear Or make a new one since the old Is saplesse grown And a much fitter stone To hide my dust then thee to hold ¶ Sinne. LOrd with what care hast thou begirt us round Parents first season us then schoolmasters Deliver us to laws they send us bound To rules of reason holy messengers Pulpits and sundayes sorrow dogging sinne Afflictions sorted anguish of all sizes Fine nets and stratâ—gems to catch us in Bibles laid open millions of surprises Blessings beforehand tyes of gratefulnesse The sound of glorie ringing in our eares Without our shame within our consciences Angels and grace eternall hopes and fears Yet all these fences and their whole aray One cunning bosome-sinne blows quite away ¶ Affliction WHen first thou didst entice to thee my heart I thought the service brave So many joyes I writ down for my part Besides what I might have Out of my stock of naturall delights Augmented with thy gracious benefits I looked on thy furniture so fine And made it fine to me Thy glorious houshold-stuffe did me entwine And ' tice me unto thee Such starres I counted mine both heav'n and earth Payd me my wages in a world of mirth What pleasures could I want whose King I served Where joyes my fellows were Thus argu'd into hopes my thoughts reserved No place for grief or fear Therefore my sudden soul caught at the place And made her
and giving light But since those pipes of gold which brought That cordiall water to our ground Were cut and martyr'd by the fault Of those who did themselves through their side wound Thou shutt'st the doore and keep'st within Scarce a good joy creeps through the chink And if the braves of conqu'ring sinne Did not excite thee we should wholly sink Lord though we change thou art the same The same sweet God of love and light Restore this day for thy great name Unto his ancient and miraculous right ¶ Grace MY stock lies dead and no increase Doth my dull husbandrie improve O let thy graces without cease Drop from above If still the sunne should hide his face Thy house would but a dungeon prove Thy works nights captives O let grace Drop from above The dew doth ev'ry morning fall And shall the dew out-strip thy dove The dew for which grasse cannot call Drop from above Death is still working like a mole And digs my grave at each remove Let grace work too and on my soul Drop from above Sinne is still hammering my heart Unto a hardnesse void of love Let suppling grace to crosse his art Drop from above 〈◊〉 come for thou dost know the way â—r if to me thou wilt not move â—emove me where I need not say Drop from above ¶ Praise TO write a verse or two is all the praise That I can raise Mend my estate in any wayes Thou shalt have more 〈◊〉 go to Church help me to wings and I Will thither flie Or if I mount unto the skie I will do more â—an is all weaknesse there is no such thing As Prince or King His arm is short yet with a sling He may do more â—n herb destill'd and drunk may dwell next doore On the same floore To a brave soul Exalt the poore They can do more O raise me then poore bees that work all day Sting my delay Who have a work as well as they And much much more ¶ Affliction KIll me not ev'ry day â—hou Lord of life since thy one death for me Is more then all my deaths can be Though I in broken pay â—ie over each houre of Methusalems stay If all mens tears were let Into one common sewer sea and brine What were they all compar'd to thiâ—â— Wherein if they were set They would discolour thy most bloudy sweat Thou art my grief alone Thou Lord conceal it not and as thou art All my delight so all my smart Thy crosse took up in one By way of imprest all my future mone ¶ Mattens I Cannot ope mine eyes But thou art ready there to catch My morning-soul and sacrifice Then we must needs for that day make a match My God what is a heart Silver or gold or precious stone Or starre or rainbow or a part Of all these things or all of them in one My God what is a heart That thou shouldst it so eye and wooe Powring upon it all thy art As if that thou hadst nothing els to do Indeed mans whole estate Amounts and richly to serve thee He did not heav'n and earth create Yet studies them not him by whom they be Teach me thy love to know That this new light which now I see May both the work and workman show Then by a sunne-beam I will climbe to thee ¶ Sinne. O That I could a sinne once see We paint the devil foul yet he Hath some good in him all agree Sinne is flat opposite to th' Almighty seeing â—t wants the good of vertue and of being But God more care of us hath had If apparitions make us sad By sight of sinne we should grow mad Yet as in sleep we see foul death and live So devils are our sinnes in perspective ¶ Even-song BLest be the God of love Who gave me eyes and light and power this day Both to be busie and to play But much more blest be God above Who gave me sight alone Which to himself he did denie For when he sees my waies I dy But I have got his sonne and he hath none What have I brought thee home For this thy love have I discharg'd the debt Which this dayes favour did beget I ranne but all I brought was â—ome Thy diet care and cost Do end in bubbles balls of winde Of winde to thee whom I have crost But balls of wilde-fire to my troubled minde Yet still thou goest on And now with darknesse closest wearie eyes Saying to man It doth suffice Henceforth repose your work is done Thus in thy Ebony box Thou dost inclose us till the day Put our amendment in our way And give new wheels to our disorder'd clocks I muse which shows more love The day or night that is the gale this th'harbour That is the walk and this the arbour Or that the garden this the grove My God thou art all love Not one poore minute scapes thy breast But brings a favour from above And in this love more then in bed I rest ¶ Church-monuments WHile that my soul repairs to her devotion Here I intombe my flesh that it betimes May take acquaintance of this heap of dust To which the blast of deaths incessant motion Fed with the exhalation of our crimes Drives all at last Therefore I gladly trust My bodie to this school that it may learn To spell his elements and finde his birth Written in dustie heraldrie and lines Which dissolution sure doth best discern Comparing dust with dust and earth with earth These laugh at Ieat and Marble put for signes â—o sever the good fellowship of dust â—nd spoil the meeting What shall point out them â—hen they shall bow and kneel and fall down flat â—o kisse those heaps which now they have in trust â—eare flesh while I do pray learn here thy stemme â—nd true descent that when thou shalt grow fat â—nd wanton in thy cravings thou mayst know â—hat flesh is but the glasse which holds the dust That measures all our time which also shall â—e crumbled into dust Mark here below â—ow tame these ashes are how free from lust That thou mayst fit thy self against thy fall ¶ Church-musick SWeetest of sweets I thank you when displeasure Did through my bodie wound my minde You took me thence and in your house of pleasure A daintie lodging me assign'd Now I in you without a bodie move Rising and falling with your wings We both together sweetly live and love Yet say sometimes God help poore Kings Comfort ' I le die for if you poste from me Sure I shall do so and much more But if I travell in your companie You know the way to heavens doore ¶ Church-lock and key I Know it is my sinne which locks thine eares And bindes thy hands Out-crying my requests drowning my tears Or else the chilnesse of my faint demands But as cold hands are angrie with the fire And mend it still So I do lay the want of my desire Not on my sinnes or coldnesse but thy will
Divinities transcendent skie Which with the edge of wit they cut and carve Reason triumphs and faith lies by Could not that wisdome which first broacht the wine Have thicken'd it with definitions And jagg'd his seamlesse coat had that been fine With curious questions and divisions But all the doctrine which he taught and gave Was cleare as heav'n from whence it came At least those beams of truth which onely save Surpasse in brightnesse any flame Love God and love your neighbour Watch and pray Do as ye would be done unto O dark instructions ev'n as dark as day Who can these Gordian knots undo But he doth bid us take his bloud for wine Bid what he please yet I am sure To take and taste what he doth there designe Is all that saves and not obscure Then burn thy Epicycles foolish man Break all thy spheres and save thy head Faith needs no staffe of flesh but stoutly can To heav'n alone both go and leade Ephes. 4.30 Grieve not the Holy Spirit c. ANd art thou grieved sweet and sacred Dove When I am sowre And crosse thy love Grieved for me the God of strength and power Griev'd for a worm which when I tread I passe away and leave it dead Then weep mine eyes the God of love doth grieve Weep foolish heart And weeping live For death is drie as dust Yet if ye part End as the night whose sable hue Your sinnes expresse melt into dew When sawcie mirth shall knock or call at doore Cry out Get hence Or cry no more Almightie God doth grieve he puts on sense I sinne not to my grief alone But to my Gods too he doth grone Oh take thy lute and tune it to a strain Which may with thee All day complain There can no discord but in ceasing be Marbles can weep and surely strings More bowels have then such hard things Lord I adjudge my self to tears and grief Ev'n endlesse tears Without relief If a cleare spring for me no time forbears But runnes although I be not drie I am no Crystall what shall I Yet if I wail not still since still to wail Nature denies And flesh would fail If my deserts were masters of mine eyes Lord pardon for thy sonne makes good My want of tears with store of bloud ¶ The Familie WHat doth this noise of thoughts within my heart As if they had a part What do these loud complaints and pulling fears As if there were no rule or eares But Lord the house and familie are thine Though some of them repine Turn out these wranglers which defile thy seat For where thou dwellest all is neat First Peace and Silence all disputes controll Then Order plaies the soul And giving all things their set forms and houres Makes of wilde woods sweet walks and bowres Humble Obedience neare the doore doth stand Expecting a command Then whom in waiting nothing seems more slow Nothing more quick when she doth go Joyes oft are there and griefs as oft as joyes But griefs without a noise Yet speak they louder then distemper'd fears What is so shrill as silent tears This is thy house with these it doth abound And where these are not found Perhaps thou com'st sometimes and for a day But not to make a constant stay ¶ The Size COntent thee greedie heart Modest and moderate joyes to those that have Title to more hereafter when they part Are passing brave Let th' upper springs into the low Descend and fall and thou dost flow What though some have a fraught Of cloves and nutmegs and in cinamon sail If thou hast wherewithall to spice a draught When griefs prevail And for the future time art heir To th' Isle of spices Is 't not fair To be in both worlds full Is more then God was who was hungrie here Wouldst thou his laws of fasting disanull Enact good cheer Lay out thy joy yet hope to save it Wouldst thou both eat thy cake and have it Great joyes are all at once But little do reserve themselves for more Those have their hopes these what they have renounce And live on score Those are at home these journey still And meet the rest on Sions hill Thy Saviour sentenc'd joy And in the flesh condemn'd it as unfit At least in lump for such doth oft destroy Whereas a bit Doth tice us on to hopes of more And for the present health restore A Christians state and case â—s not a corpulent but a thinne and spare Yet active strength whose long and bonie face Content and care Do seem to equally divide Like a pretender not a bride Wherefore sit down good heart Grasp not at much for fear thou losest all If comforts fell according to desert They would great frosts and snows destroy For we should count Since the last joy Then close again the seam Which thou hast open'd do not spread thy robe In hope of great things Call to minde thy dream An earthly globe On whose meridian was engraven These seas are tears and heav'n the haven ¶ Artillerie AS I one ev'ning sat before my cell Me thoughts a starre did shoot into my lap I rose and shook my clothes as knowing well That from small fires comes oft no small mishap When suddenly I heard one say Do as thou usest disobey Expell good motions from thy breast Which have the face of fire but end in rest I who had heard of musick in the spheres But not of speech in starres began to muse But turning to my God whose ministers The starres and all things are If I refuse Dread Lord said I so oft my good Then I refuse not ev'n with bloud To wash away my stubborn thought For I will do or suffer what I ought But I have also starres and shooters too Born where thy servants both artilleries use My tears and prayers night and day do wooe And work up to thee yet thou dost refuse Not but I am I must say still Much more oblig'd to do thy will Then thou to grant mine but because Thy promise now hath ev'n set thee thy laws Then we are shooters both and thou dost deigne To enter combate with us and contest With thine own clay But I would parley fain Shunne not my arrows and behold my breast Yet if thou shunnest I am thine I must be so if I am mine There is no articling with thee I am but finite yet thine infinitely ¶ Church-rents and schismes BRave rose alas where art thou in the chair Where thou didst lately so triumph and shine A worm doth sit whose many feet and hair Are the more foul the more thou wert divine This this hath done it this did bite the root And bottome of the leaves which when the winde Did once perceive it blew them under foot Where rude unhallow'd steps do crush and grinde Their beauteous glories Onely shreds of thee And those all bitten in thy chair I see Why doth my Mother blush is she the rose And shows it so Indeed Christs